


Super Gone

by thecirclesquare



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecirclesquare/pseuds/thecirclesquare
Summary: Road Trip AU. After a fight with her mother, Lena steals the car and empties one of the family bank accounts. She heads west toward Los Angeles. On the first night of the trip she runs into Kara Danvers, an old acquaintance from her college days.





	1. Chapter 1

To be honest, I can’t even remember the reasons why I stormed out of my mother’s Manhattan office with the keys to her car slipped quietly in my pocket. I can’t remember the words we exchanged, but I do remember the feeling, the tightness in my chest, and the explosion from my mouth. I do remember the sound of silence as I left her alone to stew in the fresh spattering of my accusations.

It was probably just one of our regular rows—when was I going to make something of myself, when was she going to acknowledge everything I’ve already done, I spend too much money, she spends too much time abroad, I’m a terrible daughter, she’s a terrible mother—we could practically have these fights in our sleep, but for some reason that day I’d had enough.

I took her car straight to the bank, and in a calm voice, asked the young man behind the Plexiglas to empty one of our many family accounts. The teller asked me to step into a private room as he set the stacks of cash on the table.

“Ms. Luthor, how would you like to carry this out?” he asked politely.

“Oh, silly me,” I said. “I forgot my briefcase at home. I don’t know where my head is today.”

“That’s no problem, ma’am. I believe I have one. I’ll be back in a moment.” He returned with the briefcase, packed the stacks inside, and even showed me how to operate the combination lock before sliding it across the table toward me. “Are you sure you don’t want to do a final count before you leave?”

“Nonsense. Have I any reason to doubt you?”

“I should hope not.”

I smiled and headed for the door.

“And do I have any reason to doubt you, Ms. Luthor?”

I turned. “Excuse me?”

“Your mother won’t be upset with such a…substantial withdrawal?”

“Of course not. She told me to make an investment, and so I am…in myself.”

“Very good, then,” he said.

I sat in the bank parking garage for a long time, the briefcase propped up in the passenger seat next to me. I gripped the stirring wheel as a surge of adrenalin poured through my veins. I needed to go to get away for awhile, but where could I go? My mother owned the entire city. She probably owned the entire state as far as I knew. No, it had to be somewhere further, somewhere even she couldn’t touch.

I typed an address into my phone. I’d only seen the address once, but I was certain that if there was one place my mother couldn’t touch, that was it.  

_32421 Laurel Canyon Blvd. Los Angeles, CA._

I held my breath as the GPS spun its wheel, until finally the route popped up on my screen. 

_41 hours. 2,797 miles. Via I-80 W._

I zoomed out on the map, staring for a long time at the blue line that cut right across the country. I smiled at the violence of it. I, too, could cut right across this bullshit if I wanted to. And I’d love to see her try to stop me.

_Of course she won’t._

A fresh wave of rage flared up at the thought. I peeled out of that parking lot and headed west.

“Let her follow or not,” I said to the setting sun. “But I’m already gone.”


	2. Chapter 2

I was half way across Pennsylvania when I felt my eyelids grow heavy. I stopped off in a small town called Clearview for the night, checking into a hotel at about eleven o’clock or so. It wasn’t so late, but the drive hadn’t been an easy one. My hands still shook as I handed over the cash.

“No bags?” the clerk asked. According to her nametag, her name was Debbie. 

“No,” I said. “I’m traveling light.”

“Gotcha,” she said with an empathetic sigh. “Elevator’s just down the hall. Your room is the on the third floor and to the right.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking the key. But then a thought hit me. “Where would be the best place to buy some clothes, though…if I was interested?”

She smiled. “One of those nights, huh?”

“Something like that.”

She nodded and pulled out a map, tracing out the route to a nearby shopping center with her pudgy fingertip. “It’s the best shopping in town. You can’t miss it.”

“And gas?”

“Same center!”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

I headed for the elevator, but she called after me. “Don’t worry, darling. He’ll come around eventually.”

I smiled and turned, too tired to contradict her. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Once inside the room, I went straight to the minibar, ripping the tops off of two tiny bottles of tequila at the same time. I didn’t even bother to pour them into a glass. I shot them down one after the other, then opened the fridge looking for anything else.

I found a couple of warm beers and an empty ice bucket. In the center of the shelf was a printed note: _In an effort to reduce our carbon footprint, this refrigerator is left unplugged when the room is not occupied. Feel free to plug it in during your stay with us. Thanks, Management._

“Great,” I grumbled to myself as I grabbed the empty bucket and the beers.

I headed out into the hall, walking from one end of the floor to the next, only to find a sign by the stairs stating that the ice machines were only on the second and fourth floors. I headed back to the elevator and pressed the button, watching the little light above it with a numb sort of interest. The tequila was already kicking in and my eyes began to drift in and out of focus. I heard the soft ding when the elevator arrived, but barely registered the sound of laughter until the doors slid open.

And then…

I locked eyes with a beautiful stranger. She was mid-smile, her hand on her companion’s shoulder, laughing at something he’d just said. She paused when she saw me, and her smile slid downward.

“Lena?” she said.

“Do I know you?”

“It’s me, Kara!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“From school? Intro to Journalism? We interned on the newspaper together for a semester.”

Suddenly, things came into focus. “Kara Danvers? Is it really you? You look so different, I hardly recognized you. You used to be so…”

“Nerdy?”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“All right. Preppy, then?”

“Exactly!” I suddenly felt giddy and awake, when only moments before I was completely exhausted. “I mean, you did own a different sweater vest for every day of the week. And now look at you! Is that a nose ring?”

“Well, you look exactly the same!” She turned to her boyfriend (at least I assumed that’s who he was.) “Lena’s been wearing power suits since freshmen year—probably since middle school!”

He smiled politely, but I knew he didn’t care.

“How have you _been?_ ” she said, stepping toward me.

“Good!” I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding over to her boyfriend. “And you?”

“I’m ah- _maz_ -ing!” she said as she grabbed his arm. “This is Mon-el, my, um…boyfriend.”

“Mon-el?” I said. “What is that? French?”

“French Canadian,” he corrected.

“Oh, of course.”

An awkward silence followed as we all stood facing each other. Kara looked back and forth between us, her face a shade darker than when she first stepped off the elevator. Mon-el leaned impatiently forward on his toes. And I…

I’m a little ashamed to admit that I was staring. I have a tendency to do that when I’m tired. She just looked so different, the dark eye liner, the sexy tank top and leather jacket. It was so not the same woman I remembered. But then she smiled and tilted her head to the side and I couldn’t believe that I didn’t recognize her right away.

“Anyway,” I said, lifting the ice bucket. “I’m on a mission.”

“Don’t let us keep you,” Mon-el said.

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button.

“Wait!” Kara said, blocking the doors with both hands. “We should stay in touch.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

“Are you on Facebook?”

“Of course.”

“Great! I’ll look you up. Or you look me up. Either way.”

“Right. I’ll look you up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She smiled and let go of the doors, lingering in the hall as they closed, letting out a very soft, very gentle, “Good night.”

“Good night,” I said back, but the doors had already closed.


End file.
